


Certainty

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: LJ gives his dad permission to do what's necessary. [Post S3 fic.]





	

  
“You know, you don’t love her. You might want to, but you don’t.”  
  
LJ’s statement was soft, but his voice held this quality now—something he’d earned during those dark days with Gretchen—and Lincoln realized when he heard it, it always penetrated deeply inside him.  
  
That didn’t mean he liked that his son often saw into the truth of things, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want it pointed out to him right now.  
  
“What?” he asked, turning his head to see his son standing in the kitchen of Sofia’s apartment. Yes, they’d been living there for more than two months but he still identified it as Sofia’s apartment.  
  
LJ picked up a piece of fruit off the counter and walked into the living room. He watched Lincoln steadily and then dropped on to the couch next to him. He took a bite from his apple before he repeated, “You don’t love her.”  
  
The subject of LJ’s sentence was currently at work, which was why they could speak freely.  
  
Lincoln lifted his eyebrows. “How do you know?” He could try to play dumb, but more often than not that just led to his son getting angry with him, and he found he didn’t like upsetting LJ, for any reason.  
  
“Because I remember you and Veronica. And you never talk about Veronica. And Sofia’s too nice.” He took another bite of his apple and stared at Lincoln, as though waiting for a denial.  
  
Lincoln was the first to look away. “I could love her,” he said. “Eventually.”  
  
“Why are you still here?” LJ asked. “Why haven’t you gone to help Uncle Mike?”  
  
Those questions caused Lincoln’s neck to crack as he whipped his head back around to glare at his son. “I’m here because of  _you_. Because I want to take care of you, and be with you.” Huffing with irritation, he added, “It was never about Sofia.”  
  
LJ shook his head. “Me and Sofia don’t need you, Dad. Uncle Mike  _needs_  you.” Lincoln sighed and then got to his feet as LJ took another bite out of his apple. “We’ll still be here when you get back,” he said, his mouth full.  
  
Lincoln paced away towards the French doors. The windowpane Michael had smashed the day they had come there together—the day Michael left to chase down Gretchen and Whistler—was still not repaired. It had a large piece of cardboard taped over it, but Lincoln hadn’t fixed it like he’d told Sofia he would. He could beat around the bush, but the fact was LJ had waited this long to ask these questions, as though he intuitively knew Lincoln couldn’t wrestle with his conscience much longer. “I’m afraid,” he announced. “That if I leave, we won’t come back. If we make another ‘last stand’ against The Company, how many times do you think we can escape with our lives?” He shook his head morosely. “If I go, it’s really likely we’ll die out there.”  
  
The only sound for several silent moments was that of LJ eating his apple. “Then Uncle Mike shouldn’t die alone,” was all he finally said, and Lincoln’s eyes closed against the sunlight streaming through the window in front of him. They closed against the age in his son’s voice. LJ would never know the carefree days of most 16 year olds, and though that was no different than Lincoln’s own life, it had been something he’d always hoped for his boy.  
  
When he turned to face his son, his expression was resolute. “Are you sure?” he asked, not because he didn’t want to go fight this war with his brother, not because he didn’t also have people to avenge, not even because he was afraid to die—those days were far behind him, but because if this was the final thing he ever did for his son, he wanted LJ to be certain.  
  
LJ tossed the apple core at a paper bag that served as the garbage can just on the other side of the counter where he’d first picked up the fruit. The item sailed right to where it was intended. “I’m sure,” he said.


End file.
